I met Gary exactly 16 years and 7 months ago, although he doesn't remember actually meeting me then. To him, I was just a barrier, an obstacle in the path he was taking to the refreshment table at my first meeting of the Christian singles group, Equally Yoked. Gary had joined in the summer of 2001, but here it was in November, and he hadn't yet fulfilled his obligation to attend an orientation meeting, so he happened to be at the meeting for new members like me. I saw him from across the room and when I recovered from my breath catching in my throat, I knew I had to find out who he was. After the meeting, I marched right up to him, stuck out my hand, and introduced myself. He looked down slightly, mumbled something akin to "nice to meet you" and brushed passed me, straight to the refreshment table. I was only slightly deflated and thought, "At least now he knows my name"! I have since learned that telling him your name means nothing because chances are, he will never remember it, especially when there is anything sweet or looks remotely like chocolate sitting on a table to be enjoyed! And that was the sum and total of our first "meeting"...which, in fact, was a non-meeting of sorts.
Each month the Equally Yoked group would meet at the Texas Dance Depot in Irving, TX for a fun, clean, alcohol-and-smoke-free environment to meet people, Country/Western dance, and even take dance lessons. And each month, I saw Gary. Each time, my breath caught in my throat, "Ahhh, there he is!" But he wasn't looking anywhere near my level. No, he was looking over my head. I am 5'3", and he is 6'0", so in order to actually see me, he simply had to look down a few inches, which of course, he wasn't doing. Month after month. So I thought I'd nudge him a little...I brushed past him, saying "hello" or "excuse me". Nothing. Why, I even bumped right into him, and he didn't notice me! Until the week before Memorial Day in May of 2002, he never noticed me. At all. Believe it or not, though, from the moment I first saw him across the room, I knew this was the man I was going to marry. How I knew is one of those wonderful mysteries in life, but I knew, that is a fact.
So I decided that since he wasn't going to take any subtle hints, I was going to have to just plant myself by his side and let him see me. I got a big glass of water for fortification, wrote my name across the side so he could read it as well as hear it, drew up a chair and sat down. Never mind that he was sitting with several women and was trying to work out a trade (a dinner for a massage) with a massage therapist. Nope, that didn't matter to me. I flashed my biggest smile and introduced myself again, even telling him I knew his name was Gary. He asked me to dance and my heart was beating so fast to the rhythm of that polka, I thought I was going to faint. When we got back to the table, there was no time for very much talking because someone was waiting to ask me to dance. Eventually, when our conversation kept getting interrupted by requests for me to dance, Gary got annoyed with me and went home.
For some reason though, I suddenly became intriguing to him, and he checked out my Equally Yoked 'profile' (which, unlike in today's age of technology where everything is available with the click of a button, was simply a book with one page per person that contained a brief synopsis of who we were...our likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests and perhaps a picture or two). After a week or so, he called me via the voicemail system they had at the time and through a series of a comedy of errors, we finally connected. We talked for hours uninterrupted, decided to go out, and set a time and day for our first date. Well, I knew I had Lupus, and there had been several times in my walk with this disease that I had to come to terms with my mortality because I wasn't sure of what my future held. So when I decided to date again after my first marriage dissolved, the question of whether or not to tell the person I went out with and if so, when, was always a source of stress for me. "Do I say something or not?" "Should I wait?" "What if he doesn't ask me out again?" "What if I wait and he feels I lied to him?" So on one of those lengthy and wonderful phone calls, I told him. Everything. I figured if he wanted to walk away, it had better be now, before we even went out on our first date. But he continued to call me every day and we continued to get to know one another. Finally, he invited me to a meeting/dinner for those that participated in prison ministry missions. On that night, in his truck (which was unbelievably romantic because it was so ridiculously unromantic by fairy tale standards), as we were leaving that meeting, he asked me to marry him. It was 2 days before our planned "official" first date, and only 2 weeks after we "met" on the dance floor.
As our wedding date approached, I grew increasingly anxious, fearful that he didn't fully understand the ramifications of my disease and the full burden of marriage to someone who suffers from it. So a few nights after we got our marriage license, we sat down together one more time and I went over it with him again. I told him that when things get bad, they get really bad. His response was "God brought you to me. You are a gift, my 'Bride of Promise'. I am not worried about it, and I am going into this commitment with you with eyes wide open. Eyes wide open, baby!" How does a girl say no to that? Two days later, on a Wednesday, June 26, 2002 (and only 4 weeks after we "met" on the dance floor), we slipped away to the Justice of the Peace in Fort Worth (on my lunch break, no less!) and committed to one another...for better or for worse, in sickness and in health...for life.
I have to say that I have never in my life been more attuned to or felt more loved by anyone than my husband. Gary has been with me through every single dance step we've been able to enjoy, every single struggle to keep my footing, and yes...every single falter when I lost my footing altogether. Since we married, I have received other devastating diagnoses (such as CVID, Myasthenia Gravis, Autoimmune Vestibular Dysfunction, Vascular Ehlers-Danlos and others), and he has held true to his word on that night 16 years ago when he promised me he would never leave me and was going into this with "eyes wide open". He has carried me, helped me to the bathroom, assisted me with getting dressed, cleaned the house, done the laundry, cooked the meals, cheered me on when I was down, told jokes and made me laugh, held my hand when I've had surgery or have been too weak to hold my head up, slept in the parking lot at the hospital when I was in ICU, worked hard by holding down a full-time job and a side business, and sacrificed his own desires when he knew it would help me. For over two years he drove 300+ miles each way every 2 weeks so that I could get my life-saving infusions. I am pretty much homebound and cannot drive myself, but when we do get out, he faithfully and without complaint takes my power chair apart, puts it in the car, then puts it together again for me to use. Once I'm through, back in the car it goes...no matter how many stops we have to make. He does it each and every time without so much of a groan or sigh of fatigue or frustration. Is he perfect? No, and he will be the first to tell you that. But he is perfect for me. I am amazed at this gift that God has given me and am humbled that I was chosen as Gary's "Bride of Promise".
